Claridge’s Hotel Mayfair London
7 a.m.
April 19th
Cobb had asked for an alarm call and breakfast in his room. He showered, dressed neatly but comfortably and whilst waiting for breakfast he took out the police issue Heckler Koch MP5, stripped it, cleaned it and armed it. He did the same for his PSS and tucked that in his waist band at the back of his trousers.
Breakfast arrived and he sat down to enjoy ‘ham and eggs’ British style. The coffee was strong and the kind he liked. Betty still hadn’t stirred and he wondered how he was going to deal with her.
Across the city Tony Deany had risen from his duty team stopover room’s single bed, washed, dressed and after eating a good breakfast and gone down to the office assigned for him for the two weeks. He was surprised to find Ellie already there.
“Early riser?”
Not usually, it’s hard to sleep knowing these men are out there. I mean twelve dead, the mayhem at Gatwick, sorry to remind you, then the mayhem at that club.” Ellie paused and looked up from her screen.
“It’s not so hard to sleep when you need to. I always rise early, did whilst I was a cop and always do now, no matter how much sleep I’ve had. I suppose I don’t like to waste a day knowing how short life could be.” Tony sat down and logged on. Ellie turned back to her screen and then cast him a sideways glance.
“You know that sounds good to start with and then becomes really quite grim at the end.”
Ellie looked at him. Tony looked back and took in her face. It was a clear skinned, pale oval, set with a wide mouth, a small neat nose and heavy lashed pale blue eyes. Her hair was black and cut in a long ‘bob’. She smiled and he smiled back
“What’s the news from the network?”
She watched him turn to the screen, slightly flushed with embarrassment. He was sweet, especially for a man about six feet tall, muscular, with short, untidy half curled hair. She liked his eyes, slightly hooded looking, almost sleepy and a warm brown colour.
“No sign of Mason. They found the motorbike at the Bickenhall Hotel, well near it. They had an armed team go in softly, softly. You know rang up, woke manager, did a walk in opened door with a key. He was gone. I don’t think they expected to find him."
“News on Stanton? “
“Nothing really. Daylight will mean the search can get under way, but he’ll know that so they’ll have to search harbours. DIC teams are doing West Coast Harbour checks to see if he put in. There’s a negative response there. As for Cobb, no sign at all. There were a couple of false leads off the CCTV checks, he’s fairly average looking Cobb, especially from black and white footage.”
“So that’s it. You might as well go back to bed.” Deany smiled at her.
“No way. When the call comes in I want to be ready.”
“You’re a bit gung ho aren’t you?”
“I knew Wally Tyson. When I started some years back I was duty team partner to Wally for a year. He was a great guy and a real brain man.” Ellie blinked holding back her tears.
Deany nodded, the word ‘brain’ bringing back the mental picture of open shattered skulls and leaking brain matter on the jetty at the Liverpool Marina.
“So I want to be the one to either bring him in or shoot him.” Ellie said in a lighter tone than she intended.
“I was at the Marina and his house, with his wife and daughter. It was a shocking thing to do to anyone, so I’m keen to get the scum too; just so you know.”
“Good, then he won’t have chance will he.” Ellie looked firmly into mid distance, in her mind’s eye seeing Wally as he was when she met him. Deany stared into his computer screen, but saw Wally’s shattered face and head, dripping with Mersey water, and then he thought of Ginny and Tara. In a moment he’d relit the torch of revenge he swore to himself he’d carry for them.
Across the city the Paddington Green Police Station desk sergeant took the call with some cynicism.
“Right thank you sir. I’ll have that looked into.”
He called the special branch office who in turn called the DIC centre, where the information was passed to Diane.
When the phone rang at seven thirty in Tony and Ellie’s office neither were expecting anything vital.
“Tony, it’s Diane, listen there’s a report of a sighting of Cobb at Claridge’s Hotel in Mayfair. It’s unlikely, but take a photo and trek along to reception there and see whether it’s true. If there’s a positive identification then called armed police, oh and both of you follow weapon check procedures before you go. I had Magda call down for a car.”
“Thanks Diane. You sound tired shouldn’t you sleep?" Tony had a soft spot for Diane and Ellie gave him a knowing smile, Tony acknowledged her intuition and ‘waved her away’ with his free hand, he liked Diane, but not in that kind of way, more like a favourite aunt. Whilst talking to Diane he looked at Ellie, who on reflection he felt was more his kind of woman.
“Not until Jack’s back from Liverpool, he’ll be here by 9am sharp, he said, I’ll sleep then.” Diane said and she hung up.
Tony told Ellie and five minutes later they were in the DIC pool car, a black VW Polo, ideal for the London streets. They went along Marylebone Road, into Portland place, then Wigmore street and Ellie found a parking space for the car on Vere Street. They walked down New Bond Street, into Brook Street and were at the hotel within ten minutes of leaving.
Up in his room Cobb had woken Betty. She was rather hung over and he called down for Alka Seltzer and more coffee. Betty groaned and made for the shower. She hardly remembered what had happened. It was always the same. Her husband had been a stock broker and since his death she lived well, but the kids were grown up, living in America and generally didn’t want to see her when she did fly over. She’d taken to getting bored and going out to get drunk. The hot water brought life into her body and she did remember bits of the night. She knew she was at Claridge’s, she recognised the art deco style from when she’d stayed here before, with her husband. She felt really sore, above and below and wished she hadn’t got so drunk.
The room service had arrived and freshly showered and dressed in a hotel dressing gown she sat in the plush lounge, downed the Alka Seltzer and took the proffered cup of coffee.
“I don’t know your name.”
“Charlie, you’re Betty right?”
“Right. I feel a bit roughed up Charlie, we didn’t do anything weird did we?”
“No it was straight and a lot of fun, you’re a passionate woman.”
She blushed and Charlie, in spite of his harsh life, laid on the charm, it couldn’t hurt to lie a little to ease her discomfort.
“Nice place, you must be doing well.”
“Yeah I’m hoping to close a million pound deal today.”
“Hey that’s nice, my husband was a stock broker he made a real killing in the nineties.”
“Yeah I hope to make a real killing today. You said you were a widow I wasn’t sure if it was true.”
“It is. I bet you’re thinking sad old broad going out and getting drunk and laid like a tart.”
“No Betty, you’re a sweet looking woman can’t be easy being a widow in your thirties.”
“Now you’re being silly.” She smiled nonetheless. She added suddenly, “Charlie I can’t walk out in the evening dress I was wearing. Could you do me favour. If I gave you my keys you could go to my flat in Chelsea and get me some day clothes?”
“Sure Betty.” Cobb wasn’t happy, but he wanted to make things smooth. He didn’t want her getting hysterical, crying rape or calling anyone up. He was hidden and he wanted to stay that way. He called for a taxi, took the address and was about to leave Betty in the room, when he thought about the MP5 in the bag under the bed. Whilst she was in the lounge he took the bag with the weapon in and all his incriminating items from under the bed.
“What’s with the bag. If that’s cash in there I wouldn’t trust me with that much.”
“I wish it was cash, but it’s… the prototype of my new product, secret stuff and all that, patent pending so…”
“It’s okay Charlie, I understand, I wouldn’t trust me either. You’re close to your fortune, take no chances eh?”
“Sure. I’ll be back in half an hour. You sure the alarm’s not on at your house?”
“Yeah I never switch it on.”
“No, most people don’t, everyone tends to think they’re safer than they are, always complacent about their safety and then sometimes the worst happens and they’re not ready, silly really.” Cobb said and closed the door behind him.
Ellie and Tony were greeted with sniffing disdain at reception in the beautiful opulence of Claridge’s entrance foyer. The revolving door led into the grand reception, floor in polished black and white checks, gilt and glass everywhere and imposing square pillars supporting an ornate and powerful place.
The receptionist was unhappy at first at the thought of divulging information about guests and unimpressed by any official badge, but was ultimately moved to action by Cobb’s photo thrust under her nose.
‘Yes she did recognise the man, he had a suite and were they sure this man was a wanted killer?’
The answer shocked her. A copy of The Daily Express and Cobb’s picture, amongst the others, inside, page four, yielded a sharp gasp. There was an even greater gasp from the attractive girl and her bright face blanched as she looked behind them. Both of them turned reaching for their Sig 220’s knowing what it meant.
Cobb was crossing the foyer when looking to reception he looked at the girl and saw the fear in her eyes; the man and the woman there on his side of the desk reached into their jackets. Cobb shouldered the nylon bag reached into his waist band, pulled the pistol out and started to run, pointing the weapon behind him spending his last four rounds in a self cover escape blast. It worked.
Tony, Ellie and the receptionist threw themselves for cover as the PSS spat the rounds in their direction, glass shattered on a huge gilt edged mirror and wood splinters flew up from the frame of a free standing screen. One round chipped the plaster on a square column as it ricocheted into a beautiful art deco lamp on a table above Ellie’s head, dropping bulb glass into her hair.
When they looked up Cobb was just on the other side of the ornate revolving door. Unhesitating in spite of the door’s expense and beauty Tony, up on one knee, took careful aim and slammed three close grouped shots at the shadow of Cobb’s departing head as the door turned on its pivot. The glass in the door was toughened safety glass and the shots made a three centre spider web and did no more.
Ellie and Tony were on their feet and running, but as Ellie went to thrust herself full force into the segment and push her way out Tony, running just behind, encircled her with his arms and pulled her to the ground, slamming her right shoulder which made her squeeze the trigger. A spider web appeared a foot off the ground in the glass panel of the revolving door dead opposite their position. Then the door began to disintegrate under a close quarter barrage of sub machine gun rounds. The wood splintered and glass flew in all directions, into the foyer, onto the check floor and over the two prone DIC officers sheltering with arms over heads from the onslaught.
Cobb had simply got through the door, thrown away the PSS pistol and ripped the MP5 from the Nylon bag. It was cocked and ready to go and he simply clicked it from safe to automatic and in less than a second, knowing they’d pursue him out the door, turned and fired, he saw them fall to the right, saw the round hit the glass as they fell just as he opened up. He couldn’t be sure if he’d killed them or not, but he pocketed one of the other magazines, unclipped the spent one and locked the third into the MP5, set it to single shot and ran off down Brook Street towards Grovesnor Square.
Tony rolled across the floor ignoring the glass and lay on the floor dead centre of the shattered doorway, pointing his Sig at where the gunman had been, seeing nothing he got up, motioned Ellie to take the left and taking the right, stepping through the now empty revolving door frames they emerged onto the street, sweeping the clock with their Sig barrels.
“There he goes, down Brook Street. You take the left pavement I’ll take the right.” She was off running and Tony ran across to the left side of the road and began chasing.
It was early, but there were a few cars on Brook Street and being one way they were all heading towards the chase. Cobb was running down the middle of the road, dodging to the sides of traffic, sparse as it was, coming towards him. In his mind’s eye he looked at a map and knew that Hyde Park was at the bottom and Hyde Park Corner tube was on the other side of Park Lane, to the left.
There was a sharp bang and a round buzzed past him, whirring like an insect. He stopped a taxi, pointing the MP5 at the windscreen, ready to take a hostage, but Ellie saw it coming and had stopped, shouting to three pedestrians coming her way to hit the floor, which seeing her pistol they did. She stood in duellist stance and as Cobb made for the taxi door, without shouting a warning she sent off a round which sliced through his left ear and ricocheted off the taxi coach work. Cobb dropped turned, stung, but not stunned and set the Heckler Koch to automatic and loosed of a burst in the direction of the shot. Ellie made it to the shelter of a BMW, parked on her side of the road, which was then peppered with glinting, hot fizzing holes. The taxi accelerated and Cobb was briefly exposed for Tony, on the other side of the road, sheltering behind a parked car, to take a shot. The round missed Cobb by a millimetre and shattered the window on a parked Mini Cooper.
The MP5 in one hand, Cobb emptied the magazine in Tony’s direction and took off running. With cars swerving to avoid him Cobb kept running, knowing that if he stopped a car he’d risk being shot. He increased his pace heading for the park, trees, bushes, cover and his only chance of escape.
His MP5 clip was empty and he had one magazine left in his pocket. He was running and close to being out of time.
When he got to Park Lane Cobb ran across not looking and was lucky in that cars were too far away to hit him. He was across into Hyde Park and disappointed to find himself running across open ground along a long diagonal path, one of many criss-crossing that area. He saw that he was heading for the corner of the serpentine and Hyde Park Corner.
With a flat path beneath him and a steady pace, he unclipped the spent magazine and loaded the last one in. As it was open ground he knew that if he stopped rolled and turned he could open up on his pursuers.
Not daring to fully look behind in case he tripped he slowed, dived onto the grass, did a rolling turn and faced back up the path. There was no-one there. Cobb jumped up and looked around full circle. A jogger and a dog walker caught his eye briefly, but otherwise his pursuers were gone.
Watching Cobb crossing Park Lane Tony stopped Ellie following, got out his phone and breathlessly called in. DIC centre called for police helicopter surveillance and the nearest was a minute away. The instructions to the helicopter were to observe from as high up as possible.
“What now, you just going to let them take over?” Ellie was panting and angry.
“No, he won’t get away, we can shadow him from the line of trees along Park Lane, anyway, you’d have got shot on open ground and he’ll be heading for Hyde Park Corner tube stop I’ll bet.”
Ellie smiled. “Clever man, come on let’s go.
They sprinted for all they were worth, looking right as they ran, catching glimpses of Cobb in silhouette the shadowy gun giving him away. Cobb took the first diagonal to Speaker’s Corner and as he did so began thinking of how to get on the tube with a sub machine gun. He knew he’d have to wrap it in his coat and carry it. As he got to the exit he slowed and took off his coat wrapping the weapon. The helicopter was just arriving and couldn’t see him. Armed response teams were at every exit of the park and teams were entering, all looking for an armed man.
Tony and Ellie had got to the Hyde Park Corner exit and stood either side of it. An armed response team screeched to halt as Cobb emerged. As the policemen got out of the car, Cobb desperately unwrapped the MP5 from his coat bundle, but Ellie and Tony fired.
The first shot from Ellie hit Cobb in the heart, then Tony’s shot hit him in the same place and then their next two each grouped around the centre of his chest. Cobb pitched forward dropping the coat and Tony and Ellie moved in weapons to the fore.
Cobb was spitting blood and rasping, eyes wild as he drowned in his own blood, which filled his punctured lungs. Blood leaked from his wounds staining the dusty ground. Tony and Ellie knelt down next to him holstering their weapons. Behind them armed police alerted to their presence joined the death scene.
Tony looked into the fear wide eyes. “You’re going to die now Cobb and then you’re going to fry in hell for the people you killed you murdering son of a bitch.”
“We’d better call an ambulance!” An armed office had squatted down by Tony and added, “That’s a callous thing to say to a dying man mate.”
“You know the guy who shot those cops at Gatwick, murdered those guys in Liverpool?”
“This him?”
“Yeah and that’s a police MP5 over there right?” Tony asked. “You call an ambulance when this bastard stops breathing right?”
The officer peered in at Cobb and the man’s smiling face was the last thing Cobb saw and Tony’s ‘So long Cobb’ was the last thing he heard.
Ellie and Tony stood up. “Three down two to go, wanna get a beer Ellie.”
Ellie shook her head.
“Anger’s like passion, you get all lusty with it and when you’re done you feel tired and worn out. I wanted to kill him, but now we have I feel sick.”
“First time you’ve killed someone?”
“You mean that isn’t the first time you have?”
“No. I was a New York cop.”
“I thought you were a bit unfeeling. Has killing and seeing the dead dulled your senses?”
“Yeah I guess it has.” Tony said the lust of the chase leaving him as he spoke.
“Wally said once that he’d killed and didn’t carry a gun because he didn’t want to do it again in case it rotted his soul.”
“You think my soul’s rotted?” Tony asked incredulous.
“No Tony, you’re still good, but I think your halo’s rusty and your wings are tattered. Better watch it or you’ll go the same way.” She pointed at Cobb. “He didn’t start life as a monster, military service and too much killing made him that. Just watch you don’t go the same way.”
“I think I’ll have a Bourbon with that beer.” Tony said frowning.
“I think I’ll join you now, but mine’s a G and T.”
“Let’s find a bar.”
“It’s eight in the morning I think a supermarket would be the best bet for a stiff drink.”
“Drinking out of a brown bag in a car?” Tony exclaimed.
“Yeah, bad idea.”
“Let’s get back to the car and go back to work.”
“You don’t want that drink then?”
“Maybe later yeah?” Tony smiled and raised his eye brows.
“You’re on mate!” Ellie grabbed his arm and led him away, he didn’t protest at the contact.
The ambulance and news arrived. Police cordoned the area and to get out of the cordon Ellie and Tony flashed their DIC badges with diplomatic immunity. They’d have to explain the killing and account for the rounds, but for that moment they walked away without a question being asked.
Dover
8 – 45 a.m.
April 19th
David was in the loft, checking e-mails and DIC ‘traffic’ when Mary called him.
“David Conor wants to go to MacDonald’s for Breakfast!”
“He’s had breakfast. I thought we were going later?”
“He wants to go now and anyway I said Mona was picking us up at ten.”
“Okay MacDonald’s breakfast it is. Get him ready I’m on my way down.”
He heard Conor’s sweet voice shout ‘Yay’ and Mary telling him to get dressed in his outside clothes.
The DIC ‘traffic’ was mostly about traces on Mason and the search for ‘Priory’ in London. There was good news about Beaumont. He was stable and doing well. David felt better. He read the newly posted report on Cobb’s death and felt glad that he’d been put out of harms way. He left the computer running and climbed down the ladder, closing the hatch.
Conor was in the hall, wrapped in puffy coat, blue wellington boots, hood up over woolly hat and strapped into a buggy.
“We ready for an adventure wee man?”
“Yeah. Go and see the boats, get old MacDonald’s.”
David put on a warm coat and threw a scarf around his neck. Mary opened the door. The rain had petered out during the night and the April day was cool and damp, with a touch of watery sunshine. David wheeled the buggy down the path and smiled back at his wife.
“Be good and back by ten as I’ve to take him with me, okay?”
“We’ll be good!”
David walked the buggy down Markland Road, turned left then right, passed the pub and Mr Patel’s, the newsagents. He sped down Elm’s Vale road and slipped onto the Folkestone Road. His fast walking pace made Conor whoop with the speed and laugh when David splashed the buggy through puddles. Within minutes they’d passed the entrance to Customs, zoomed past the Station steps to Dover Priory and past Dover College. David wheeled his son into the town centre and they arrived giggling and breathless at the MacDonald’s.
David bought them the breakfast, to take away, with coffee for himself and milk for Conor. That done they went up the pedestrian shopping centre, down into the underpass, David letting the buggy go and running beside it down the ramp, Conor squealing with fear and delight. A short push up and into the open concourse of the harbour front, to the right of the ferry terminal and the left of the Marina and they pulled by benches, near the swimmer statues, the harbour wall in front of them. They settled on a bench, Conor’s little legs dangling and David got the food out.
It was a fresh morning and seagulls hung like mobiles on the buffets of close to shore breezes. The harbour was calm in its own way, the water frothed only at the edges by the shore line, but David could see heavy swells and rabid frothing out by the Dover Harbour wall. The sky was a mix of speeding white clouds and grim heavy grey ones, the sun flashing through when space allowed. David drank in his son’s fresh face, chewing on hash brown potatoes and scrambled eggs.
“Look a big white boat!”
“That’s a liner.” David said looking at the big ship docked to their right.
“Liner, yeah, it’s hooj Dada.”
“That it is. Would you like to go on one day?”
“Yeah, I’d be a pirate and capture it and steal all their treasure.”
“That’d be bad. I’m a police man now. I’d have to stop you.”
“You wouldn’t though, you’d be my helper and I’d make you rich, then mummy wouldn’t be so sad.”
“Has mummy been sad?” David was suddenly focussed on his son’s face.
“Yes.” His son’s face was earnest and concentrated. “She said she wanted you home. I’m glad you’re home. I asked God to get you home.”
“That’s good. Thank you.”
They finished their breakfast. David threw away the left over wrapping and put Conor back in the buggy. He walked to the right as they always did, along the front, along Waterloo Crescent, past the Marina, over the bridge on Union Street, up Snargate Street and left at the roundabout onto York Street. The traffic was heavy even at that time in the morning and David had his eye on the lorries and trucks as he made the crossing.
David was so busy watching the traffic that he didn’t see Trevor Stanton, who had just been to the Somerfield on Castle Street and coming back was entering York Street from Old Mill Lane.
Stanton did see McKie though. He made a casual glance to his right before he turned left towards the seafront and was stunned to see McKie, the man from Perth Station, the man he had seen on Parneuk Street in Motherwell, pushing a buggy across the pedestrian crossing.
Stanton had got into Dover marina with ease, earlier in the morning. Moored up he’d checked the boat’s cupboards and unhappy with the choices, decided to go shopping.
Standing there in a large hooded Berghaus coat he’d taken from the boat, his brown boots, still damp, new thick socks, dark blue trousers, a new black T shirt, that he’d bought in town he looked carefully at the figure across the road, now heading away at a fast walking pace. There was no doubt in his mind. Stanton had fixed the man’s size, shape and face in his memory and there he was large as life pushing a buggy.
Stanton knew at once that McKie lived in Dover. He knew the man must be DIC and if that was the case McKie would have DIC equipment at his house. Access to that network would be really useful to Stanton. Stanton didn’t have a weapon on him, his was back on the boat, but he decided to follow McKie at a distance. He pulled his woollen hat down close to his eyes, dumped his shopping and the plastic bag with the yellow waterproof clothing over a wall on the trail up the Folkestone Road; McKie’s figure was easy to follow, though his walking pace kept him well ahead. McKie was absorbed listening to Conor’s inane chattering and wouldn’t have looked for danger. He felt safe.
When Stanton got to the junction of Elm’s Vale Road and Church Road McKie had disappeared. Stanton knew he’d gone that way though and had a quarter of an hour walk around the streets before he saw a house with a big white satellite dish on Markland Road, just up past a primary school. Stanton did some reconnaissance around the area and after making his way up to Eaves Road saw through gaps in garden gates the school field and the backs of the Markland Road houses.
David had got in from the walk breathless and giddy. He’d unwrapped Conor, given him a biscuit and was sat having a big mug of tea chatting in the dining room with Mary. It was a quarter to ten in the morning.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah we saw boats and Dada promised to be a pirate with me.”
“Change of career then Davy?”
“Maybe.”
Mary was sat facing the garden picture window. The long garden backed onto the primary school field, across which there was a steep bank, leading up to the back gardens of the houses on the Eaves Road. She proffered David a plate of biscuits and he took a custard cream and bit it.
The door bell rang and Mary, expecting her friend, got up and missed the view of a dark figure sliding down the bank from an overlooking garden.
There was the bustle of Mina and her son Hadleigh in the house. Mina made small talk with David and then within ten minutes Mary and Conor had left in Mina’s car. David was going to go to the loft to do some work, but he quite suddenly felt comfortable and happy. The urge to put the television on and vegetate for a while overwhelmed him. He wasn’t normally lazy, but he felt that after what he had been through switching off for an hour or so would make him feel a lot stronger. He took his tea into the lounge and switched the set on.
At the top of the garden a figure crawled under the link fencing and emerged behind a small shed at the top of McKie’s garden. Stanton began looking at the house for weaknesses from his hidden vantage point. His eye lit on an open Velux window on the roof.